Nine Lives
by a walker to remember
Summary: In which Carol takes pleasure in seeing Daryl Dixon blush as many times as she can make him. Oneshot.


**A/N: **Because I absolutely cannot resist flirty!Carol. Daryl can't either. Ahem. Anyway, this is now my personal head-canon explaining Carol's "Nine lives, remember?" line in 3x07. Sorry if it's OOC. Slowly working on improving my characterizations of my favourite beloved non-couple. Hope you like!

**Nine Lives**

She'd gotten bolder, he realized. It wasn't a drastic change that occurred overnight nor was it a subtle one that developed over time. It was a sporadic thing; sometimes she'd playfully torment him with a brash side of her he'd never seen before and sometimes she'd close herself off from him in a manner that too closely resembled his own reserved nature. It had become noticeable during the winter, when she had asked him to train her to shoot. He knew she didn't want to be thought of as a burden any more – not that anyone really carried that idea, it was more of her own consciousness – so he agreed. And when he had begun taking her out for lessons, safely distanced from the group as not to attract unwanted attention, she started to initiate conversations that had nothing to do with what they were trying to accomplish.

It wasn't anything unpleasant or irritating. Hell, he liked talking to her; she seemed to be the only one who truly understood him. But he wasn't accustomed to having her joke around about matters such as the boundaries of their friendship. He once held her stance steady from behind to ease the tension from her natural, inexperienced position and she remarked that having his arms around her would be more enjoyable in _different _circumstances.

Surprised, he'd backed off and shook his head, dismissing her comment genially. But her giggle stayed with him for a while and he came to the realization that if it was at his expense that she laughed, he didn't really mind. He remained the source of her amusement for the lapse of their training sessions and once they hit the prison, it had only gotten worse.

Back during the colder months, she had always implied that they could somehow end up like Glenn and Maggie. But she had never outright suggested that they actually do it. The first night they camped out in the prison fields, she proposed that they 'screw around'. If he'd been eating the supper she'd brought him at the time, he would've choked. But he had learned to control his bewilderment, so he merely scoffed. He may have also chuckled too.

The woman was quickly earning his fondness and she was aware of it.

One night, he had been on watch in the guard tower. Though Rick had recommended that they do so in pairs, he refused. He didn't need anyone else there with him. Since the quarry he'd done his shifts sans partner. Merle was usually too high to give a damn about the camp's security and back then he'd never been close to any of the others. He'd always been by himself and it never would help any if he wasn't. Chances are, the person would only agitate or bore him in some way.

Spotting a figure in the distance, he'd taken a closer look and immediately knew it was her. She oftentimes had trouble sleeping and was always restless in the night. Instead of yelling for her to get back to the prison, he let her approach. Soon enough she was joining him on the walk way and it was quiet.

He looked at her, a bit chilled in her thin sweater. She watched the moon with half-hearted interest.

"Yeah?" he said, assuming she would automatically know what he was asking. She always did. It never failed.

She nodded. "Night terrors," she explained. "Been dreaming a lot of Sophia, lately. 'Bout leaving her behind..."

Daryl ducked his head. It was a hard subject to think about, let alone discuss. They hadn't ever mentioned her since they had left the farm. Comfort seemed a lot easier to achieve if the original basis of the distress was never brought up. He felt just as upset as she did, sometimes. There was so much regret and sorrow just hearing her name. He decided not to allow himself to continue there and cleared his throat, sparing another glance at her.

"Used ta have 'em, too," he revealed. Her glassy eyes met his and there was a hint of surprise in them.

He was used to that – not much people had faith in people like him. After all, he was a no-good southern roughneck. It was nothing new to be treated like dirt. When he thought about the kinds of people that deserved to be respected, he thought of Rick. Officer Noble, he'd nicknamed him back at the camp. He was the kind of man that gave people reasons to believe in him and, true to his status of Sheriff of State, he did. Rick _was_ the leader, after all, not he.

"Dreamt a lotta 'bout Merle's mutilated hand, the bloody cuffs. Where he could be, how he was, that sorta stuff. I used to see 'im, too. Not a night went by that I didn't see that ugly mug of his."

This earned a small smile from Carol, despite the previous mentions of his brother's disfiguration. She turned more to him. "Did it get easier?"

"After a while, kinda. I still see him from time to time, doesn't hurt any less, but it's manageable." He sighed a bit sadly. "The only thing keepin' me up is you."

Carol's eyebrows rose. "Me?"

Daryl's face reddened immediately. "I meant the group, is all," he amended quickly. "I gotta look out fer the whole lotta ya. Ain't never been in that kind of position before."

"And what positions _have_ you been in, may I ask?"

Again, Daryl felt his cheeks grow warm. Damn woman took too much enjoyment in see him embarrassed. But why was he embarrassed? They were just words. Just a joke. Yet every time she implied something it caused his stomach to hurdle forward anxiously. Merle could have easily said those exact same things and he'd never be bothered by it. But when it came out of her mouth, it sounded a lot more disgruntling.

"Ne'er you mind," he said simply, a tiny grin pulling upwards the corner of his mouth. Though she lived to tease him, he always found that seeing or hearing her pleasure in doing so gave him a bit of happiness. "You should be in your bunk, anyways."

"I don't recall seeing you claim one. If you want, we could always share."

"Ain't that enough for one night?"

This time they both laughed.

Their conversation faded. But unlike some, the silence between their words wasn't an uncomfortable or awkward one. They didn't need sound to communicate and it was one of the most notable aspects of their kinship. However, after a while of stargazing, Carol looked at the man beside her and smiled. If Daryl didn't know any better, he'd have thought she was scheming something wicked.

But because he knew her, she might as well have been.

"Daryl? Can I ask you something?"

He shrugged coolly. "Go right ahead."

For the first time since she'd transformed into a stronger, more confident version of herself, Carol's voiced sounded hesitant. But even through her reluctance she looked up at him very slyly and continued. "Have you ever...kissed a woman?"

Yet again she was treading on unexplored territory and it would never be any less mortifying. This, though, had to be the peak of her banter. Instead of playing aloof or answering her directly, he decided to tease her himself and answered coyly, "Watch it, lady. Curiosity killed the cat."

Proud of himself for being just as playful, he thought he had won the round. But when small, soft hands gently settled on the expanse of his shoulders, he relinquished all pride.

Her lips met his in a brief union and as quick as they were there, they were gone. He hadn't had enough time to process the idea of reciprocating, much less actually do it before she pulled away. In fact, he was still reeling when she giggled.

There was a very large, triumphant grin on her face when he finally snapped out of his daze. The gleeful light of which reached her eyes – she was _very_ smug about once again one-upping him and it showed.

She turned to leave, but before she could, she couldn't resist adding even smugger parting words. "Cat had nine lives."


End file.
